Chapter 55: Sand Slipping Through Her Fingers

Ying Lan stood beside Jiang Chenbi and could feel the chill emanating from her body. She glanced at the people below in the hall and roughly guessed the reason for Jiang Chenbi’s anger.

Jiang Chenbi had left Luozhou for three years, and the chamber of commerce had developed steadily according to plan, continuously providing substantial funds to Yellow Path Palace. But that was because Qian Yuan had been managing it.

Qian Yuan couldn’t manage the Palace Council, and with the Palace Lord absent, the people below inevitably grew lax.

Back when Jiang Chenbi was still a disciple of the Poison Gu Sect, she had more energy to develop Yellow Path Palace, so in just one short year, the core members had already been finalized. Later, when she took over the Poison Gu Sect and became the young sect master, she found herself stretched thin.

But because Ying Lan and the Mountain Lord held some authority over the inner cabinet’s management, the inner cabinet’s development remained relatively stable. However, the outer cabinet members were a mixed bag of varying quality. In the past few years, they had aggressively recruited new members, going against Jiang Chenbi’s original intentions, which led to chaos in the Palace Council’s outer cabinet.

Every person in the inner cabinet managed specific outer cabinet members. Han Qi, who had spoken earlier, was primarily responsible for recruiting and managing Yellow Path Palace’s external branch members.

The rewards from the Palace Council’s outer cabinet were generous, attracting many who joined for the fame. Some were exceptionally capable and stood out to join the inner cabinet, while others muddled through just for the money.

After entering the Cold Palace, Jiang Chenbi learned of this and flew into a rage, ordering them to rectify the situation. But nearly a year had passed, and cases like Alna’s still occurred—even a few days ago, only one person had caught her eye during the review.

This outburst wasn’t sudden; it had been brewing for a long time, waiting for those still on missions to return before dealing with them all at once.

As soon as Jiang Chenbi spoke, everyone knew the purpose of this Palace Lord’s meeting.

Those who had already rectified their subordinates stood tall without fear, while those who had dragged their feet now faced the crisis like enemies at the gate.

Jiang Chenbi curved her lips. “Do all of you think that since I’m in the Capital City, my reach is too short, so you can ignore my words?”

Her tone shifted abruptly as she slammed her palm on the armrest, her cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. She said sternly, “Or does someone among you think that I’m just a sickly weakling who can’t serve as Yellow Path Palace’s Palace Lord?”

The oppressive pressure descended like a sky full of blades hanging overhead. The “hiss” of cold-blooded creatures slithering across the ground mixed with the “hiss” of their flickering tongues, echoing in their ears.

The crowd hurriedly stood, bowed their heads, and knelt on the ground, chorusing, “Palace Lord, your subordinates dare not!”

Jiang Chenbi stared at the kneeling group below. As she descended from her high seat, with every step she took, their hearts tightened further.

Jiang Chenbi suddenly laughed, the sound clear and pleasant. “Hahaha, what’s with the perfect unison? Performing undying loyalty?”

Her voice turned icy in an instant. “Fine then, since you’re all so in sync, why don’t you each say who deserves to die?”

“Start one by one, beginning with Han Qi.”

Han Qi jerked her head up and saw Jiang Chenbi looking down at her imperiously, her pupils dilated almost covering the whites of her eyes—that gaze was cold and devoid of ripples.

It was as if, in her eyes, the person before her wasn’t a living being, but an ant she could crush at any moment.

Cold sweat dripped from her forehead to the tip of her nose. Han Qi heard her own trembling voice say, “This subordinate thinks it’s me, because I never properly handled the external branch members.”

Jiang Chenbi stared at her and revealed a smile that said, “How could that be?” She bent down, patted her face, and said softly, “Is that really what you think? But I think you’re doing great…”

Han Qi didn’t dare move, swallowing hard as she felt a wet chill creeping up her leg—it was a leaf snake…

The smile at Jiang Chenbi’s lips froze, and killing intent slowly emerged in her eyes. Expressionless, she said, “Great enough… to deserve death.”

As her words fell, the leaf snake on Han Qi’s leg lunged, biting into her neck. Han Qi didn’t even have time to beg for mercy—or perhaps she knew it was pointless—and died on the spot.

Jiang Chenbi straightened up, her gaze indifferently sweeping over the trembling others. “Don’t waste my time.”

A few hesitated in their expressions but knew they had no right to resist. After struggling inwardly for a long time, they closed their eyes and drew daggers to slit their own throats.

At least dying by their own hands was better than dying at the Palace Lord’s.

Jiang Chenbi didn’t spare them a single glance. She bent down to pick up a leaf snake, toyed with it in her hand, and slowly returned to her high seat.

Those who worked under Jiang Chenbi never controlled their own life or death. Giving them the chance to end it themselves was already a great mercy.

Everyone by her side lived with their heads tied to their belt buckles.

Jiang Chenbi’s thoughts were inscrutable, but her killing intent was laid bare. Even knowing death was inevitable, watching the countdown to their lives, they still had to play out this final act with her just for a swift end—rather than ending up like those in the Water Prison.

Ying Lan watched the group impassively. Once those who deserved death had died, she took the bone whistle hanging from her neck and blew it. Soon, members of the shadow organization entered to clean up the bodies.

Jiang Chenbi held the leaf snake up to her eyes, stroking its small head with her other hand, her expression one of being utterly charmed. She said, “Since you dared to survive, clean up the unresolved issues before dawn tomorrow.”

The survivors didn’t dare say a word and hurriedly kowtowed. “Yes.”

“Go.”

Deals with the devil were always like this—endless temptations backed by the sacrifice of the power over life and death.

Ying Lan looked at Jiang Chenbi, who was still playing with the leaf snake in her hand, and sighed inwardly.

She felt that the Palace Lord’s state was growing increasingly dangerous, her sanity teetering on the edge of losing control—normal one moment, unhinged the next…

She knew Jiang Chenbi was perhaps venting some unknown inner repression through this, but if she continued like this, her threshold would keep rising. What if one day, no amount of killing could relieve her stress?

Jiang Chenbi suddenly spoke. “Ying Lan, do you think I’ve gone mad too?”

Ying Lan’s heart tightened, feeling as if the next second she might die in Dinggan Palace for saying the wrong thing. After a long hesitation, she said, “They were negligent and inactive. The Palace Lord is only doing this for Yellow Path Palace.”

“Hahahaha, even you say that… For Yellow Path Palace… Yes, it’s all for Yellow Path Palace. Otherwise, why would I do this…”

Jiang Chenbi laughed wildly, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“Cough cough—” Perhaps from the emotional agitation, she coughed violently and tumbled off the chair, landing on the carpet below.

Ying Lan wanted to help her up but was pushed away. Jiang Chenbi propped herself up and continued laughing.

Her eyes flickering, Ying Lan took a handkerchief and wiped the blood from her lips.

Having fallen, she simply lay on the carpet. In the empty Dinggan Palace, the woman’s eerie laughter echoed, inexplicably tightening hearts.

Ying Lan lowered her gaze and listened as she laughed and paused alone in the vast hall.

After an unknown amount of time, Jiang Chenbi seemed to have laughed herself out or coughed herself exhausted and fell asleep on the carpet.

Ying Lan wanted to sigh but feared disturbing her. Silently, she bent down and lifted the woman. Her slender frame was light as a feather, as if a gust of wind could blow her away.

A sharp pain stabbed at her heart.

Cui Wangshu frowned and instinctively pressed her hand to her chest. Today, she kept feeling an inexplicable panic.

“Lord Minister, what’s wrong?” Chen Quan asked with concern.

Cui Wangshu shook her head, wanting to continue reviewing the blueprints with Chen Quan, but after that bout of heartache, she couldn’t settle her mind.

Cui Wangshu frowned. “That’s enough for today. Start the construction.”

Chen Quan was stunned. Though he didn’t know why she suddenly said this, he nodded. “Rest assured, Lord Minister.”

In the carriage, Cui Wangshu didn’t give instructions on their destination for a long time. The guard couldn’t help reminding her, “Lord Minister…”

Cui Wangshu furrowed her brows and hesitated. “…Back to the residence.”

Although she had delegated the matters to the Ministry of Rites, as the primary official in charge, she should stay in Luozhou City out of duty.

The mountain road was rough, and the carriage jolted. Cui Wangshu clutched her chest; the panic lingered. Realizing something, she furrowed her brows and said, “Turn around. To Yellow Path Palace.”

“Yes.”

Ying Lan was surprised to see Cui Wangshu return, her eyes flashing. She had thought Cui Wangshu wouldn’t arrive until at least tomorrow night.

Cui Wangshu frowned slightly. “Where is she?”

Ying Lan composed herself. “She’s asleep.”

Cui Wangshu pursed her lips. “I’ll go see her.”

Ying Lan stopped Cui Wangshu and hesitated. “Lord Minister, could you… spend more time with the Palace Lord?”

Cui Wangshu paused but didn’t ask anything, simply agreeing. “Alright.”

In the bedchamber palace, Jiang Chenbi lay on the bed, quiet as a fragile porcelain doll.

Without Jiang Chenbi’s permission, Ying Lan couldn’t change her clothes, so Cui Wangshu immediately noticed the bloodstains on her collar.

Her gaze darkened slightly as she gently touched the bloodstain. The dried blood on the expensive cloud brocade was glaringly stark.

The emotion called heartache pierced densely into her heart, making it hard for Cui Wangshu to breathe. She wanted to ask Jiang Chenbi so many things but didn’t know where to start.

Lately, she increasingly felt that no matter what she did, she couldn’t keep the person before her.

She held a handful of sand in her grasp—afraid to let go, afraid to grip tighter, only able to watch it slip away bit by bit.

Looking at Jiang Chenbi, Cui Wangshu felt a profound sense of powerlessness. She had never imagined she’d one day feel so unable to control something.

In the past, she thought that even if Jiang Chenbi was unwilling, she could use forceful means to keep her by her side. But now she realized the initiative had never been hers.

On one hand, she had no resistance to Jiang Chenbi’s vulnerability and was willing to compromise again and again. On the other, pity had overtaken her possessive urges.

All the words converged into one: She couldn’t bear to let go.

She hooked her lips silently, surprised to find she could be such a lovesick fool.

But no matter what, she wouldn’t let go. Once she set her heart on someone, she wouldn’t abandon them through a thousand hardships.

Cui Wangshu’s gaze fell on Jiang Chenbi’s pale face. Steadying her heart, from now on, she would do her utmost and let things take their natural course.

Cui Wangshu didn’t dare lie beside Jiang Chenbi, sensing the exhaustion between her brows. Seeing her finally asleep, she didn’t want to wake her.

Instead, she lay at the bedside, her gaze tracing the woman’s eyebrows, eyes, nose bridge, lips…

Someone so beautiful shouldn’t live so wearily.

…

A thunderclap boomed, startling Jiang Chenbi awake from her dream. She instinctively raised her hand and touched something fuzzy.

Before she could sit up and look, the fuzzy thing lifted its head.

Jiang Chenbi stared blankly at the enlarged face before her, a gentle smile hanging on it.